


Until the Last Dance

by JessicaPendragon



Series: Fenfel [2]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Pavelyan baby, solavellan baby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9858767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaPendragon/pseuds/JessicaPendragon
Summary: He remembers the steps, but they do not come so easily anymore.





	

He remembers the steps, but they do not come so easily anymore.

Limbs are stiff, bones creak in protest, reactions not as swift as they once were. They sweep in easy circles and lines for the first dance of the night and he knows one of only a few he will dance at all. For now he pushes those thoughts out of his mind and holds on tight to his love, for the night is young and for the moment so is he as they laugh and smile, shine in a shared skill they have both enjoyed for so many years. There is no time but those beats found in the counting of steps, in the breaths that pass between them.

But it cannot last, not like it once did. 

Their small kingdom crumbles, in the way he grows weary too soon, in the way she takes a deep inhale before she smiles. He excuses himself with a quick kiss and one last flourish to save her night from turning to remorseful thoughts and shadowed fears. The crowds part for him, the swish of silk and gossip whispering in his wake, and he sets his jaw and tries to ignore them and the flashes of pity on strange faces. It is a worse thing to see than what has changed in the mirror.

Wine is a welcomed thing upon his tongue - the dark, strong taste of it warming his veins and clearing his thoughts. So are conversations held with old friends, for they do not look at him like some fragile thing, nor think of him as those still portraits found in their home. They speak of new theories and ancient ones uncovered, his enthusiasm for such things never waning, his mind still sharp enough to offer suggestions and questions. He is back in the laboratory, smudges of potion on his cheek and his nose in a book, wide eyed at all the things to discover as his father smirks with pride.

Laughter echoes across the ballroom, loud and carefree, and like almost everyone else in the room, he is drawn to its source. She’s dancing in the center of the hall, spinning wild and fast, flying in the strong arms of a new partner. Beautiful, like the day they married and everyday after that, with a joy that has him grinning. The pair glow with a youthful vibrancy, skin flushed and smiles bright. Her partner could be their age or younger, older, it doesn’t matter.

They are truly timeless, ageless, and he has to look away.

He finds his own reflection in the reflective walls of the palace. There is more grey than black in his thinning hair, wrinkles and lines like tree rings to show how time has aged him. The elf blood in his veins afforded him more years than most, but there is no promise of forever for him. It was a possibility that they were aware of, one they hoped would be a failed hypothesis and were less concerned about when love was new and seemed like something that could combat the universe. No one knew what the post Veil world would be like this time until time passed. 

Now the truth is written on his face - he is a mortal thing, and she is eternity.

They have survived it, more than survived it. Together they’ve made quite a life full of forever moments and he loves her just as much as those first days, perhaps even more. He has never wanted an existence without her in it, but there are days he has imagined it. When the first signs of grey touched his hair and hers remained black, when wrinkles formed around his smile while hers stayed the same. When their daughter stood by her mother one day and it was hard to tell which one gave birth to the other. He wonders if her life would have been better with one of her own kind, if _his_ life would have been more worthwhile with someone he could grow old with. He wonders if she already dreams of the days when she’ll be free of him to start another life. Dark thoughts, for dark days, when the looming inevitability of his mortality will not be pushed to the side.

He thinks these thoughts now, as her laughter still echoes in the hall, and he knows he cannot be the one to bring her to such happiness any longer. 

Tired feet escape into the gardens until the music is more of a memory and he is all but alone. He could slip away, disappear into the avenues and eluvians and spend the rest of his days elsewhere, leave her before he is even more of a burden. He fears what might happen, what he will become, does not wish for her to see him sunken and an invalid. However, there is the selfish part of him that loves her and refuses to be parted, that would miss her dearly, that would die without her and yet…he is dying with her too.

“There you are.”

He doesn’t turn to the sound of her voice, keeps his eyes to the ground until her smooth fingers force his eyes to find hers. It is obvious that she knows where his thoughts have traveled to - it is sometimes easy to forget that she may look youthful but she is not _young._ There is wisdom and experience in her gaze, understanding and acceptance. There is a choice, as she reaches out and offers her hand with a certainty stronger than steel, that she has made every day. She chooses him, no matter the dark days and limited horizon, and if there is something that makes him feel ageless it is this. 

“It’s the last dance,” she says. “It’s always yours, for however long you’ll have me.”

 _For however long you have_. He would have her forever and forever, until the world turns to ash and them to dust, but he does not have forever. He has now, and every moment until his heart stops beating, and if she will have him then he plans to spend every second with her. It is far better to be dying with her than to face the darkness alone, and the inevitable cannot matter. They are alive, and they are together, and he will not waste what they have been given. Despite the fleeting worries of a mortal mind, it is no choice at all to love her with everything he is.

He takes her hand and pulls her close, and hopes she remembers it.


End file.
